


High Heels and Lace

by GrumpyJenn



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-04
Updated: 2012-04-04
Packaged: 2017-11-03 00:50:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/375239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrumpyJenn/pseuds/GrumpyJenn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why exactly was River so... cheerful when Roranicus came to find her?</p>
            </blockquote>





	High Heels and Lace

River and the Doctor climbed into the TARDIS, laughing. As they clambered in, she began bleeping and flashing lights at them. She sounded rather like a scolding nanny.

"What? Oh, right, Old Girl, right you are; we've got to get out of these wet things; ice-skating on the Thames is not as easy or warm as it looks. Especially before the invention of central heating". He shivered slightly, and looked over at River, who was grinning at him even as her lips were turning blue. "Oh. Oh dear, River, come on, let's get you warmed up..." He trailed off, as she continued to smirk at him. She  _did_ look too cold, and he hated to see her hurting in any way.

The TARDIS lit their way down the passageway, to the room River used for dressing when she was with him. When the doors opened into it, there were a few new developments since the last time he'd been in there. A dress form in the corner by the door, obviously for the sort of Victorian gown she was now wearing, an easy chair and footstool, a rack with heated towels, the four-poster bed with the lace curtains... He paused. Lace curtains? That seemed unlike River. He shrugged to himself - maybe Old Girl had done it of her own accord; it wouldn't be the first time. She loved River, just as he...

He turned around to beckon River inside, but she had already removed the corset and skirt of her dress, and was standing there in the... the things... that went under the dress, fussing with the skirt, which she had put on the dress form. He gaped at her, and hadn't yet recovered when she turned around to look at him.

"What?"

"That... those... you look... you're  _beautiful_ , River... what do you call that... what you've got on?"

"Mmm. Lace knickers and a camisole?"

"But... but they're so... so  _lacy,_  and so  _female..._  and so  _lacy_!"

"Indeed they are," she said, arching an eyebrow at him. "They go with the outfit. And the lace stockings And the little lacy garters, see?" She put one foot in its high-heeled ankle boot on the footstool near the easy chair, and stood there, hip-shot, the smile a little more sultry and challenging now. "And, my dear Doctor, have I  _ever_  given you cause to doubt that I'm female?"

"Ah, well no, no, of course not, but when I see you, I think of  _female_  as high heels and amazing hair and cleverness, but lace... lace just never really occurred to me as a... as you... as a River Song kind of thing... they're... so  _lacy_..." He trailed off again, slightly breathless.

"I have my moments of more... traditional femininity, my love. Want to see?" She took her foot off the stool and started toward him, slowly and deliberately. He backed away slightly, and she kept moving, until she had maneuvered him to where the backs of his knees hit the bed and he toppled onto his back. She chuckled and pounced, pinning him lightly against the bed. "Now, my love, I know you could move me away if you really wanted to... but you don't, really, do you?"

What was she thinking? He didn't know for certain, but it seemed to him that under the sexy playfulness she was asking him a very serious question: Would he or would he not push her away this time? He didn't want to hurt her but he wanted her in a way he hadn't wanted a Companion for... well, centuries, really. Rose... Rose had been different; she had been a reminder to his Ninth and Tenth selves that not everything was death and destruction and betrayal and... he shook his head. Now was the time to think about  _River_... about wonderful and crazy River Song, the only woman who was a match for him he'd known in  _ages_. He sighed, and kissed her, and whispered, "River... everyone I've cared for... I've hurt them, just by being who I am. I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't hurt me, not by loving me. At least, only in the same way that I will hurt you... by forgetting me - by forgetting  _us_  - each before the other is ready. But I will be  _so much more hurt_ if there never  _is_ an us because of that fear." She had tears in her eyes. He reached up and gently touched her cheek, letting the tear soak into the skin of his hand, then stroked her cheekbone and buried his hands into the wild mass of curls at the back of her neck, bringing her head back down to his. He kissed her gently on the lips, lingering there until her chilled mouth warmed under his and she moaned softly, closing her eyes.

She slid his braces down his arms and started on his shirt buttons. "Dratted bow-tie," she muttered against his mouth, frustrated. He laughed and took over removing the bow-tie. She nibbled at his mouth as her hands slid the shirt off his shoulders and down his arms. The lace of her camisole brushed against his bare chest and he groaned her name. She chuckled into his mouth and brushed against him again, deliberately, this time. He grabbed her by the hips, and flipped her over onto the bed, then slid down her body until he reached her feet.

"My turn to torment you for a bit, River."

He loosened the laces of her boots and slid each off onto the floor. He ran his hands up her leg to the top of the lace stocking, then kissed her thigh just above the garter, caught it in his teeth, and dragged it down the lacy length of her leg. Her breath came faster and it was his turn to chuckle as he repeated the process on her other leg. He eased up her body and kissed her navel through the lacy camisole, and slid the stockings down her legs. She shuddered slightly as he slowly stroked back up her thighs. He kissed and nibbled his way over the gossamer fabric of her camisole, pausing to suck on the tip of each breast through the lace, until his face was buried in her hair, his lips nibbling at her ear. She moaned his name, his true name, in a whisper, and reached down to unfasten his trousers.

He shuddered and she smiled, and without even opening her eyes she curled her hand around him and murmured, "Well,  _hello_ , Sweetie," but the sound was swallowed up by his mouth on hers. She stroked him as he shivered and moaned her name and lay back on the bed, helpless against her. "River... River, please... I..." He grabbed her wrist and she opened her eyes, staring him in the face. His teeth were gritted and the expression on his face was strained. "River... I... it's been a very -  _very_  - long time. Years. Centuries, even. If you keep doing that I won't be able to stop... and I want you to... I want to help you to..." Now he looked embarrassed. River very nearly laughed, but that would have hurt him; he was such a strange mix of wise old man and shy little boy. She eased her hand out of his trousers and kissed him resoundingly on the lips.

"Backing off then, my love." He sighed in mingled relief and frustration. "Now, my love, let's begin again... more slowly this time. And you can help me to... before I help you to... if that'll make you feel better." And she smiled at him. He smiled back, giving her  _that_ look, the sideways one from under his eyebrows, the one that meant to her that he was hot when he was clever. And he  _was_.

She sighed and laid back on the bed beside him, interlacing her fingers with his, stoking the inside of his wrist, where she could feel his pulses. The were going rather fast, even for him, and she smiled a bit. She  _did_ love the effect she had on him, and it pleased her to know that even from this end of the relationship she could affect him so much. He rather hesitantly began to stroke her wrist in response, growing bolder and stroking her skin up her arm, where he slipped the silk and lace strap off her shoulder. He turned over to look at her.

Her eyes were shut again, and her mouth was slightly open as her breathing sped up. He kissed his way up the arm, to her shoulder, her neck, her ear, while working on the tiny buttons of the front of the lacy camisole. She sighed. "You are so beautiful, River. My lovely, wild,  _amazing_ River Song..." He whispered the words into her ear, noting with a certain satisfaction that when he got the last button open and freed her breasts from the lace, she moaned, her breath coming faster. He nibbled down to the tip of one breast, sucking gently on it as she gasped his name, and then trailed kisses across her chest to the other. She arched her back and he slipped his hand into the one scrap of lace she still had on, stroking her as she shuddered and moaned his true name, over and over, until she was spent.

When she had regained her breath, she gave one long, satisfied sigh, and turned on her side to look at him. "Look at you, my love, so smugly proud of yourself! As you should be." She grinned at him. "Now, where were we before we "helped me to..."?" She put one hand on his chest and shoved so that he fell onto his back on the rumpled sheets. "Mmm... looks like you could use some "help to..." yourself." She slid down the bed, taking his trousers and boxers with her, and when she stood to climb next to him, he noticed she had removed that last piece of silky lace, leaving her totally bare but for the open lace camisole hanging from her shoulders.

She straddled him, taking him into her smoothly and making them both groan with need. And then she began to move, rubbing and stroking his whole body with hers, until they both shouted out their mutual joy in each other and collapsed together, shaking with reaction. They slowly shuddered to a stop, quietly stroking and exploring each other, until they lay still together, limbs entwined in the silken bed with the lace curtains.

There were trousers and boxers and bits of lace and high-heeled boots on the floor of the bedroom. The TARDIS smiled to herself; content that her beautiful thief and her almost-child were happy together. And the Time Lord and his Lady slept.


End file.
